


I'm an alien on this earth

by aishiterumo



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Baby Jisung, Breastfeeding, Car Accidents, De-Aged Jisung, Depression, Gen, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, Slice of Life, Temporary Character Death, Time Loop, Trauma, groundhog day kinda story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29206296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishiterumo/pseuds/aishiterumo
Summary: Again and again, Jisung always breathes his last breath, only to breathe his very first once more. Stuck in a loop, forced to live his life every time, until he finds what his soul yearns.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I wrote this while not really feeling like myself, and while being physically and psychologically exhausted from life.
> 
> \--  
> Title is lyrics from Alien by Jisung.

In his past lives, Jisung had been everything. It’s not like he remembers, anyway—because no one can remember their past lives. He just knows. He knows it. There’s always been that subtle voice in his head, telling him whether he’d already lived this or not. That’s probably why he never did something twice, always experiencing something new. Doctor, engineer, teacher, athlete, painter, sculptor, director, chef… He could name them all, there was barely anything left for him to try. Yet, there was always this lingering feeling inside of his chest, that whatever he did in life, there would always be something missing. And perhaps, as Jisung always pondered at night during his—not often but not rare either—insomnias, he would keep living again and again, until he found what was missing.

At first, and probably as anyone would have thought, Jisung believed that the _missing thing_ , was something he hadn’t done. He thought hard, until it clicked in his mind. When his mom fell badly sick, he realized that this might’ve been it; not saving his mom. But with all his might, studying hard from a young age and becoming a doctor, he never was able to save his mom and always needed to say goodbye the day of his 26th birthday.

Maybe, the thing he needed to do, was saving his childhood friend? Fate liked to play with people’s lives, as movies taught him so well over time. That was a tragic fate, that of his childhood friend’s. Not even twelve years old and in every single life Jisung had lived, he would always be the one seeing his best friend getting hit by a car in front of their school. Traumatic enough that his parents decided to move out to a whole other country for almost ten years. Jisung tragically found out that, actually, fate was just a jerk erasing people from his life and that saving them wasn’t his _missing thing_. Because Jisung couldn’t save him any other way but by pushing him hard enough to the other side of the road, and always being the one hit by the car, dying on the spot by the force of the impact.

There was this one time, when Jisung realized that maybe it wasn’t that someone was missing in his life, someone that he couldn’t save, but the opposite. Maybe it was something, someone, that was in his life when it shouldn’t have been. So, there was this one life that Jisung regretted a bit, that brought him shame and shivers every time he thought back to it. He was desperate, at that time, and he realized that there were too many fake people in his life. He was constantly angry, annoyed, pissed, he was angry against the world and fate itself, he wanted to shout at everyone and every second of his life. Maybe he was just going nuts because of how many times he had been birthed, but Jisung just couldn’t hold all of his anger inside. Twelve years old, he was the one pushing his best friend on the road. Fourteen, he locked his teacher in a closet for three days—the poor woman was heavily dehydrated and needed medical help. Sixteen, he hotwired his dad’s car and drove to the east coast, stole cup ramens in a 7/11 and slept in an abandoned apartment in a seldomly chosen building. Jisung decided to live onto his impulses, this time. To be free and above all, careless and selfish. His happiness, his other half, his thirty-third life! He was skilled enough over time to escape police officers and other law forces, to hide quite skillfully. It might have been the first life he wasn’t there when his mom died, at the funerals, that he wasn’t there to see his family shattering into pieces as their glue fell apart. Nor had he graduated any school; he was just Han Jisung, almost too famous killer for his own good. He just didn’t care anymore; if someone was too loud, he killed them. If someone wasn’t useful to him, he’d kill them one way or another.

Death was nothing important to him. It wasn’t scarry, it wasn’t anything grand. Death was just another part of life, and he didn’t care whether he led someone to it, or if it came for him; because Jisung died countless of times, it just still hurt his feelings every time. It wasn’t dying that hurt him… it was to open his eyes in that empty, white and spotless space, before he could get birthed again, and that, every single damn time. Every memory filling his head, every image passing before his eyes, and always that lingering feeling, that stinging in his heart that something was missing, a piece of his soul. Jisung was incomplete, unaware of his other half and full form. He wasn’t unhappy, nor was he always sad. There was nothing physically wrong with him either. He just _couldn’t point out_ what was missing, what would ease the pain in his heart whenever he lied down on his bed and stared at his ceiling, when the moonlight lit up his room just enough for him to feel in that spotless room again, immortally omniscient but powerlessly ignorant.

He just couldn’t predict what was supposed to happen next, except the few grand lines of his life: his childhood friend’s death, the new country, graduating, struggling to find a job, finally finding one, his mom’s death, his dad’s fall into despair, his own death… There were a few changes here and there, but nothing much changed in all of his lives—except for that one, shameful one, that he never repeated again. What was even supposed to be missing in his life? He had a brother, two parents that loved each other enough to get destroyed once separated by hateful fate, he had great friends—five in one life, ten in another…—he even had a few pets in some of his previous lives, so what on earth was he missing? Once again standing in front of a white wall for the nth time, contemplating his latest life, Jisung pondered the thought. He took a piece of paper, that somehow was in his pocket along with a pen—had it always been there, or could he materialize anything he wanted? Whatever. He listed everything his previous lives had, everything he thought it could’ve lacked, crossed those that didn’t change anything to his fate, a bitter taste in his mouth when he had to cross “saving mom” as well as “saving Jun”. It wasn’t a pet, it wasn’t saving a life, nor taking one, it wasn’t even accomplishing something grand in his life; as much as he liked to brag about his accomplishment, Jisung never said anything about how he discovered a cure for a rare disease, when he was a doctor, not how he found a way to make the Pisa Tower straight again, or simply how he didn’t care about death because he knew he would see light again. It wasn’t humbleness, nor was it fame, maybe it was something small? A detail that no one would see. Jisung tried everything. He got tattoos, piercings, even scars… He could only chuckle as he recalled that one disaster of a life where he had every single one of his bone broken at least once over his alive period. Changing his name, his appearance, Jisung tried everything he could when he finally decided to give up. He just gave up and tore the paper apart.

“I can’t find whatever you want me to have, so just give it to me or let me die in peace,” he mumbled to himself, ready to take his first intake of air when his mom would birth him for the nth time.

Bright light blinding him for a short instant, rough cries escaping his mouth while gloved hands carried him around the room; Jisung was getting used and bored of this birthing process. Only a few more minutes until he would have his dad’s face above his, and all memories of his past lives would get erased, a new life clouding his eyes and enabling him to be another Jisung, for the years ahead of him.

His dad smiled at him, caressing his soft baby cheek, before going next to his wife, pressing the side of his head against hers, the both of them whispering at the same time; “Welcome to this world, Jisung.”


	2. Chapter 2

His mom’s voice resonated through his ears, soft and soothing melody lulling him to sleep. It distracted him from the constant beeping and chaos of noises surrounding him. The only thing that mattered, was the lullaby of his mom’s voice.

The next time Jisung opened his eyes, he was blinded by a bright and white light, and tremendous pain in his body. He opened his toothless mouth, shrill cries filling the entire room. Arms linked around his body, he felt sudden pressure behind his head. The arms lifted him in the air; he cried harder. He was then met with the warmth of his mom’s skin, softness of her breast against him. He shut his eyes tight, cries rough in his throat until he felt something strange in his mouth. He sucked on it by instinct, hot liquid falling on his tongue. Somehow, he felt the pain going away, a jiggling feeling filling his body.

Once the pain was gone for good, he finally let go of what was in his mouth. For a moment, he stared at his mom, blurry figure above him. Another figure appeared on the side, he almost cried before he heard his dad’s voice. He was about to shut his eyes again, when his body was once again lifted in the air, put against his mom’s shoulder, soft tapping against his back. His mouth opened on its own, loud burp coming out of it. His parents chuckled, praising him. And, finally, he was allowed to shut his eyes and go back to the darkness void that soothed him. A finger touched his palm, that closed on it as a reflex, squeezing it as hard as it could.

There were times he opened his eyes because he had pain in his body, other times because he felt something sticky or wet on him—he disliked those time the most, as it meant a bad smell filling his nostrils, and getting his clothes removed and thus making him vulnerable to the cold air, the only upside part was to be surrounded by water, comfort emanating around him—other times because there was that jiggling feeling inside him. He couldn’t predict any of those, he just knew that every time his only possibility was to cry. There were also times he cried uncontrollably without knowing why, his parents’ tension building up in him as if he was a sponge. Most of the time, when he opened his eyes, he would wriggle without knowing why, eyes following lights and objects. He loved the shape above his bed, that turned and turned all the time. Every time, he tried to gain control over his body, to wriggle the way he wanted to, instead of the way his body decided it.

Slowly, every time Jisung opened his eyes, the blurriness went away. Once, he opened his eyes and was met with a triangular form on a cylinder, when he finally managed to get a grip of it, it was soft. It felt funny to his skin, so he kept it close. Since then, he always keeps it somewhere he’s able to reach. And as time went by, the form became clearer. There were dots on the triangle that reminded him of a face, and two cylinders on top of it. He always made funny noises when he saw it. It warmed his body, the same way seeing his parents’ face made him warm. He loved it. His parents… how surprising it was when he finally saw them without the blurriness. He made funny noises when it happened! It made him even warmer inside.

What made Jisung louder, was when he saw an unfamiliar figure for the first time. The figure was always there, next to him, next to his parents. It was way smaller than his parents’ figure, voice a higher pitch, and the figure cried just like Jisung whenever he felt uneasy. But slowly, that figure brought him warmth too. He liked the three figures he saw daily, and the soft unidentified one he kept close too.

As time went by, Jisung got more and more control over his body, understanding better that he had arms and legs he could move, ears to perceive sounds, eyes to see colors and shapes. It amazed him. Everywhere he looked, he would see more and more things. He loved the time he spent in his cradle, full view on the room. There, he could see his brother playing with his toys, his mom cooking, his dad working. He could even see the big square with moving images; it made him babble happily, arms up towards the big square, grabbing hands at it.

At some point, the entire house filled itself with anger, Jisung only able to cry his feelings out, loud noises echoing in his ears. His mom was talking loudly with his dad, his brother crying next to him, pushing him to the side while talking to him. Jisung could only cry harder, not understanding the situation, why his brother suddenly pushed him and why his parents were talking so loudly, why they were all so angry and stressed. It made it harder for him to control his cries, that only fueled everyone’s feelings. It took forever before the atmosphere calmed down, because even after all the loud noise stopped, it was still heavy in the air, made it hard to breathe.

Growing felt weird. There was rumbling in his belly, pain in his mouth, sometimes food would come out of his mouth after he swallowed it, even once he had burning pain in his ears—his mom gave him something in his mouth a few times and the pain went away the same way it had come. Nothing helped with the pain in his mouth; it never stopped. It hurt in his cheeks, in his whole body. It burned; it was unsufferable. The only thing that eased him, for a short instant, was to put his plushies and toys in his mouth, to bite hard on it, with his toothless mouth. It made it easier for him, to bare the pain.

He loved it whenever his mom held him against her breast, soothing voice coming to his ears, calming hands brushing his cheeks, lulling him to sleep. But he hated every time he’d wake up, as it was always somewhere else but his mom’s arms. And the only few times he would actually wake up in his mom’s arms, would be because his brother had pinched his arm or moved him enough to disturb his sleep.

Nothing was better but the day he finally felt a sharp thing in his mouth; he didn’t know what it was, but the pain went away. Right at the center of his gum, at the front, a little hard thing coming out. And finally, the pain in his whole body went away.

Jisung’s favorite food was his mom’s milk, so when he was sat at the kitchen table—that he knew well as he had observed it for months now—and another food was put on his tongue, he only grimaced and turned his head away. The other person at the table chuckled, praising him and he was rewarded with breast milk again. He wished that would be the last time, but later that day, the same food was put on his tongue again, and this time it felt less foreign, so he swallowed it.

He loved the plushie that lied next to him in his crib, he always grabbed him tight against him at night, when he felt away from his mom’s arms. He also loved his toys; the little cube was his favorite one. But his brother, he always pushed him to the side, picked his toys and threw them at the other side of the room.

Jisung rolled over in his playpen, enough to be in the corner and sit against the sides, extending his arms towards his mom at the other side of the room; “dada!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading up until here, I'm not really sure how long this will be.
> 
> \--  
> find more work on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/softflowermin) :]  
> you can also ask question related to my works on my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/softflowermin)!


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